


Second City

by Lint



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:46:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7783741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lint/pseuds/Lint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their eyes meet in a lighthearted standoff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She's been in Chicago two weeks.

Stepping out into the chilly fall morning, coffee cup in hand, she nearly slips on the top step because she's paying too much attention to shoving keys into her purse and not where she's going. The cup goes flying out of hand, as she grabs wildly for the banister, keeping herself upright by sheer determination.

“Careful there,” a voice calls from below. “That last one is a doozy.”

For a moment she's mortified that someone was there to bare witness to her klutziness, cheeks instantly going red, but she brushes the hair from her eyes and puts on a self depreciating grin.

“I would say careful is my middle name,” she offers. “But somehow I don't think you'd believe me.”

“Well, I would have to ask for identification just to be sure,” he gives back. “Not that I'm calling you a liar.”

She takes a good look at him, broad shoulders covered by a combination of hoodie and leather jacket, jawline sharp enough to cut paper with eyes hidden behind big black sunglasses. Her eyebrows lift upward involuntarily, and she inwardly cringes not wanting to be so obvious, but hello.

Her mouth opens to say something, what exactly her brain doesn't follow through on, but it snaps back shut when he offers up her errant coffee cup.

“You did not catch that,” she mutters in disbelief.

He grins and she wishes he didn't, because damn.

“Quick reflexes,” he replies. “You could say that's my middle name.”

She takes the cup.

“Then I'm going to need to see some ID. Not that I'm calling you a liar.”

The grin becomes a smile, and god, she really needs to stop staring.

“So you're the new tenant in 4F?” He asks.

If she didn't know any better, it appears he's pretty keen on keeping the conversation going.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Only when you know everyone else in the building.”

Well then, she thinks. Not so green looking to the big city after all. She checks her phone for the time, and yeah cute guy or not, if she doesn't leave in the next minute she's going to be late.

“I'm sorry,” she starts, shoving the phone back into her coat. “But I've really go to-”

“Of course,” he concedes, stepping to the side to let her pass. “Have a good day, Careful.”

“Caroline,” she corrects over her shoulder once she hits the sidewalk.

“Caroline,” he repeats.

Her cheeks go red again at the way he says her name. Like it won't be the last.

/\

It's three days before they cross paths again.

In the lobby this time, she in full control of her motor functions, he sitting on the bench next to the mailboxes she assumed no one ever used. There's a newspaper in his hand, and that's what honestly catches her eye, because really who reads newspapers anymore?

“Morning Caroline,” he calls, eyes focused on the print in front of him, an instant smile at her lips with the familiarity he puts into her name.

“Morning Stefan,” she returns, a small laugh escaping her when the paper folds quickly in his hand, surprise that she'd acquired his name when he himself hadn't given it.

Stefan Salvatore, small town transplant same as she, but from a military family that moved around a lot. He's a gemini and his favorite color is blue. Not that she Googled him, and got all the information within five minutes of sitting down at her work desk. No sir, nothing of the kind.

“Are you a detective?” he asks playfully, one brow arched up.

“No, but my mom's a cop,” is her reply. “Guess it might have rubbed off a little.”

His face stays neutral at the reveal, which leads her to believe that little fact is not new to him.

“That and working as a production assistant for a local news broadcast,” he tosses back. “An inquisitive nature coupled with all that information available at your fingertips. Tell me Miss Forbes, should I be afraid?”

Their eyes meet in a lighthearted standoff.

“Absolutely.”

He laughs and sets the paper on the bench next to him.

“So you asked around about me?” She asks after a beat.

“Looks like an inquisitive nature is something we have in common,” he answers. “That and coffee.”

Her head tilts curiously. “Coffee?”

“There's a great place a few blocks from here,” he says, rising to his feet. “If you'd care to join me?”

He heads for the door all Joe Cool, acting like he's not concerned whether or not she follows, so she lets him get all the way down the steps and only moves to join when he looks back worried that his little play had failed.

/\

She's drunk.

Bonnie and Elena had asked her to go for drinks after the production meeting and she, still being new to town and always up for a good time, had accepted without a moments hesitation. Problem is their favorite watering hole also happens to be a karaoke bar, and Caroline had lost count of how many drinks she'd consumed, because everyone kept buying after performing 'Hit Me With Your Best Shot' to rousing applause.

Now Bonnie and Elena have both disappeared, and she has no idea where she is, or what the bar is called. His number is the only one in her phone with a local area code, the alcohol in her blood somehow not diminishing that cognitive capability, and to her surprise he picks up on the second ring.

“Help,” she says instead of hello.

“Caroline?”

“I'm kind of,” she starts, pausing to let her hard fall back against the wall. “Kind of lost and-”

“Had too much to drink,” he fills in.

“Well of course I have,” she defends. “But that doesn't make me any less lost.”

He's quiet too long for her liking.

“Hello?” She calls. “Hello? This stupid pho-”

“Use your phone to check in,” he offers.

“Use it to what?”

“Use your phone,” he repeats. “To check in at the bar.”

“Check in at the-oh.”

She pulls it from her ear, fiddles with the apps until finally finding the right one.

“Okay,” she says. “Done.”

“I'll be there as soon as I can.”

She lets out a breath.

“My hero.”

/\

His face is one of confusion, when the door opens, and she instantly pushes the plate of muffins toward him. Two days after his bar rescue, two days of ignoring his texts and avoiding all contact in the building, she finally feels like she can look him in the eye again.

“I didn't say thank you,” she offers, still pushing the plate. “For what you did. I mean, we barely even know each other, and I just call you out of the blue like that. But you came through, and I-”

“Do you always talk this much when you're grateful?” He interrupts.

She gapes at him, mildly stung.

“Don't worry,” he assures. “It's adorable.”

Nice save, she thinks. Remembering waking up that next morning, a glass of water and couple of aspirin waiting for her on the nightstand, a note from him telling her to feel better. Really, it's like he's from some other time where being a gentleman was something males were actually concerned with.

He steps aside, the wordless invite all she needs to cross the threshold. He takes the plate from her and sets it on the nearest table, offering to get some napkins so they can both enjoy the baked goods. She takes a seat on his sofa, some relic the color of pea soup, and looks around the apartment. Slightly smaller than her unit, everything has a kind of odd faded quality to it, like nothing here has been updated since the building was completed.

There are books everywhere, and it takes her a minute to realize he doesn't even have a TV, no iPod dock either just a small record player that must be fifty years old. She'd think him a hipster if he didn't dress so well.

He returns a few minutes later with a steaming cup of coffee for her, and a muffin perched on a napkin as promised.

“Totally into the vintage thing, huh?” She asks, blowing into the mug.

Stefan has already bitten into his muffin, unable to answer her poke, chewing quickly and miming he's going to.

“You could say that,” comes out coyly.

“Seriously,” she teases. “Do you own anything in here from this decade?”

Stefan takes a sip of coffee.

“My microwave, I think.” He answers. “But it could be from the 90's, I'm not really sure.”

She laughs.

“You're an odd duck, Stefan.”

He grins.

“I've been called worse.”

/\

When the head of security at the station asks her out, she pauses a little too long for the interaction to be comfortable. Not that he isn't attractive, all blue eyes and toned arms, but she's kinda sorta got something going on with her neighbor? Maybe?

She doesn't know what to say, because she and Stefan are not dating. They haven't even kissed. God she'd wanted to, sharing coffee and embarrassment muffins in his apartment, but somehow the moment never presented itself.

Matt starts to scratch the back of his head, instinct already telling him she's not interested, but when she opens her mouth to let him down easy, he's already smiling.

“Don't worry about it,” he says with a little chuckle. “Just thought I'd give it a shot.”

She watches him walk away, hugging the clipboard in hand to her chest, wondering if she should have said yes.

-

Bonnie teases her about over lunch, pointedly waving a skewered carrot in her direction.

“Can't believe you said no,” she tosses out, before pulling the fork into her mouth.

Caroline sighs, absently stabbing at her own salad, splitting all the croutons she's most likely not going to eat in half.

“It wasn't a no exactly,” she defends. “I just kind of froze. I mean, we've never really said much to each other besides 'good morning' since I started, you know?”

Bonnie laughs.

“I don't know how your people go about getting to know someone in Mystic Creek. But where I come from, going on a date is a perfectly acceptable way to do that.”

“Falls,” Caroline corrects. “Mystic Falls.”

“Right, well. How do you date in Mystic Falls?”

Caroline blushes, looking away, mumbling under her breath.

“What was that?”

“Someone asks,” Caroline repeats, turning back to her friend. “And you say yes.”

“Same for Salem,” Bonnie replies with a nod. “You still didn't say yes.”

“I didn't say anything actually,” Caroline defends.

“Is it because of neighbor guy?” she asks.

Caroline looks away again. Bonnie smiles.

“Plot thickens,” she needles. “He was hot.”

“You only saw his back.”

“It was a hot back.”

That makes Caroline laugh, and a second later Bonnie follows.

/\

Of course he has a girlfriend.

In a leather jacket similar to the one she first saw him in, long luxurious hair that has probably never been victim to a split end, and a perfect smile that reveals pearly white teeth worthy of toothpaste commercials. They're laughing about something, insecurity stabbing away internally, that it's about her.

What a sucker she is. A fool.

She and Stefan's continual flirtation, nothing but a source of amusement with the one he truly wants. Caroline is frozen on the corner from where she spots them, they're too wrapped up in each other to even notice her crazy wide eyed stare, and she can't help but scowl when the blonde bimbo loops her arm through his.

She doesn't move until they are long from view, then tears up the stairs and straight into her apartment.

-

A few hours later, there's a knock on the door, and she seriously considers not answering it because she can hear them laughing on the other side. What kind of sadist must he be? To not only have someone on the side the entire short time they've known each other, but he actually has the gall to bring her around for a meet and greet?

After another flurry of knocks, Caroline yanks open the door, ready to lay into Stefan but is met with a pair of playful hazel eyes.

“You!” the girl shouts, far louder than she must intend, because she instantly recoils. “Whoa, sorry. Didn't mean to just yell in your face there. But yes, you. Caroline right? I've heard so much about you and I just couldn't wait until Captain Anti-social back here worked up the courage.”

Stefan catches her eye, shoulders shrugged and sheepish, this clearly not his idea but also is in no position to stop it.

“I'm Lexi,” the blonde inserts, sticking out her hand for Caroline to shake. “His sister.”

“Sister?” Caroline echoes.

“Well not really,” Lexi admits, swinging back to give Stefan a good natured sock on the arm. “But practically, if you know what I mean.”

Caroline is so confused.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Best friends, forever. Literally. And no, before you think otherwise, there was never a thing.” She emphasizes with a back and forth motion of her hand. “Here. Friends. Hell, family.”

Caroline looks to Stefan again, who once more shrugs helplessly.

“Be a lamb and invite us in?” Lexi asks. “I'd hate to be so rude as to just barge on through.”

Caroline blinks.

“Oh, of course. Of course, come in.”

Lexi brushes past Caroline, pausing to whisper in her ear, “now I see what all the fuss is about.” Then makes herself comfortable on the couch.

“Forgive her,” Stefan asks, stepping inside. “She's kind of a-”

“Force of nature!” Lexi shouts from behind.

“Yeah, that.”

Stefan goes to sit next to her on the couch, while Caroline's mind rushes for the proper etiquette in regards to unplanned company, but comes up empty. She just finds herself sitting on the chair opposite the two of them.

“So tell me Caroline,” Lexi begins, a wicked gleam in her eye. “What are your feelings toward Bon Jovi?”

/\

It's nearly three in the morning when Caroline approaches the stoop, another long night of production meetings where nothing but bad ideas seem to be generated, the sight of Stefan sitting on the steps somewhat surprising considering the time let alone the temperature.

“You didn't have to wait up for me,” she teases.

His easy smile makes her return it, as she moves to take the spot next to him, thinking how oddly comfortable they're becoming the more they get to know each other.

“Seriously,” she goes on. “What are you doing up so late?”

He gives her shoulder a little bump.

“I'm a vampire.”

“Ha, ha,” she laments with a roll of her eyes.

“It's a secret,” he continues. “Don't tell anyone.”

She bumps him back.

“I'm just going to assume that's code for I can't sleep,” she says, instantly going warm at how their arms brush up against each other. “Hardly surprising with all the coffee that you drink.”

He chuckles at that, and they stay silent for a moment, just enjoying one another's company.

“Want to know a real secret?” He asks.

“It better be juicy,” she warns. “Give me the hot gossip, not another comic book confession.”

“It is.”

“Oh,” her eyebrows shoot upward. “Do tell.”

“I kind of,” he starts, looking back at the door. “Own the building.”

For a second she's not sure she heard him right. He owns the building? Like owns it lock, stock, and barrel? He can't be that much older than her, even if she'd just assumed they were the same age it never occurred to ask, but owning apartment buildings on the north side of Chicago doesn't seem like something people in their age bracket just do.

“This building?” She repeats, her free arm waving emphatically behind them.

He nods.

“But you're not the one I signed a lease with.”

Stefan laughs.

“You do realize this conversation started with my stating it was a secret, right?”

That free hand moves to cover her face. “Yeah, duh.”

He laughs again as his hand falls to her leg, both suddenly hushed by the action.

“Here I thought you were going to confess to some hidden crush on me,” fumbles out of her mouth.

“Caroline,” he says in all seriousness. “That's hardly a secret, isn't it?”

When he kisses her she realizes no, it couldn't possibly be, but his lips taste like they're made of a thousand more.

 


	2. Chapter 2

It's nice, actually.

Having a boyfriend.

Not that she'd ever admit it to anyone, especially Bonnie and Elena who spent most of the first month as coworkers trying to hook her up with every random guy within reason, but she hasn't seriously dated since sophomore year of college. Not that Tyler broke her heart bad enough to stave off any man to come along after, but she found that actually concentrating on a set of goals gets them accomplished so much faster without the distraction of a football player with anger issues. (He's since gotten therapy last she heard, something called clinical lycanthropy.)

Stefan is something else though. After mentioning daisies were her favorite flower in casual conversation, she finds them in random places throughout the building, anywhere she might happen to come across plucked fresh and waiting for her.

He cooks too. And well. So well she puts an extra half hour on the treadmill every day because to Stefan delicious and health conscious are two things that have absolutely nothing to do with each other. He's extravagant with breakfast, excessive with dinner, and she hasn't had lunch a la Salvatore yet because she's not coming all the way home during the work week just for that. Weekends she refuses to let him play chef, thinking that a line must be drawn somewhere.

He also isn't shy about holding her hand. Something she never realized her previous relationship lacked almost entirely. They'll be walking down the street, and he'll just reach for her, it never failing to put a smile on her face. Same goes for them just sitting next to one another, in the park, on his pea soup couch, or that coffee shop he loves so much.

He calls her sunshine. And sweet Caroline.

It's so ridiculously saccharine, it could give her cavities, but she loves every minute.

Bonnie and Elena are dying to meet him, wanting to see if the man could possibly live up to the hype, but she's not ready for that yet. Wanting to keep him all to herself just a little while longer.

/\

“Aren't these the girls that ditched you drunk and alone?” Stefan asks over the thump of blistering electro-pop.

The club is packed with writing bodies, so much that Caroline wonders about fire codes in the state of Illinois, and begins to doubt if this is the best place to do a meet and greet. Elena's idea of course, though Bonnie expressed doubt, but neither she nor Caroline could come up with an acceptable alternative so here they are.

“About that,” Caroline replies, leaning in close. “Elena kind of drank herself into alcohol poisoning, and Bonnie couldn't find me before rushing her off to the hospital. So they got a pass.”

Stefan's brow furrows, the sight of it in the flashing strobe lights looking freakishly sinister, further emphasizing this is an awful venue for introductions.

“Does that happen often?” He inquires.

“Only on the anniversary of her parents death,” she answers. “Which I'm not sure is something that's supposed to be common knowledge, so keep it under your hat.”

Stefan tips the bill of the metaphoric hat, to which she just leans over to kiss him.

“Stop being cute.”

He shrugs.

“Not possible.”

She kisses him again.

“Yeah, you have that going for you.”

-

Bonnie and Elena are smiling ear to ear, clinking their glasses together, while Stefan pours on the charm. They'd stayed in the club all of five minutes, before the general consensus was met that a better place could have been chosen, and Stefan ever so humbly made a suggestion.

It's the kind of bar frozen in time, all highly polished wood and lit with low red light, a quiet cool never run dry over the years. Great for low key conversation, which has not had a hitch, since they sat down. The booze helps. Good stuff too, Stefan just as keen on the sauce as he is about coffee.

“So fun fact,” Caroline starts, swirling her whiskey around, but managing to point at her friend. “Elena here, is a twin.”

“Is that so?” Stefan asks, making eye contact with the girl in question. “And where is this alleged doppelganger tonight?”

“Europe,” Elena supplies. “Bulgaria, I think. Katherine's not the best at giving updates, her last Instagram photo was from the airport.”

The table irrupts in laughter.

“Fun fact number two,” Caroline intercedes. “Bonnie is from Salem.”

“Before you ask,” Bonnie says pointedly at Stefan. “The answer is yes, I'm a witch.”

Caroline and Elena laugh at that, but Bonnie's face remains somewhat serious, as does Stefan's.

“I used to know a witch from Salem,” he offers. “In fact, she kind of looked like you.”

Elena and Caroline share a curious look off the comment, while Stefan and Bonnie's eye contact becomes an odd laser beam of focus that doesn't waver, until the record scratch moment of a glass emptying its contents along the table. Stefan jumps up to get a rag from the bartender, leaving the three ladies to watch after him.

“What was that about?” Elena asks, once Stefan reaches the bar.

“I don't know,” Bonnie replies, looking at Caroline.

Caroline doesn't say anything, as she picks up the fallen glass and spins it idly on the table.

/\

Lexi rolls back through town, and to say she's over the moon about Caroline and Stefan's shift in relationship status, is an understatement at best. She's positively aglow at the state of her best friend's happiness, though still feeling the need to rankle him a bit, even on Caroline's behalf.

“Seriously,” she says in a stage whisper, Stefan playing master chef in the kitchen, while the girls share a seat on the couch. “That boy can wallow in angst for like, decades. And let me tell you, he has.”

Caroline laughs good naturedly. She likes Lexi. Hell, it feels impossible not to. Especially considering how reserved Stefan tends to be, it's nice to know he's capable of keeping someone his near polar opposite so close for so long. It gives her hope for the future.

Still, a small part of her can't help but feel a little jealous toward them, anxiety and self doubt always a motivator for such feelings. That it's kind of hard to believe they could be friends for so long and never...

Did they ever?

“Okay, no.” Lexi assures, when said doubt comes tumbling out of Caroline right in the middle of being told a story about Stefan's shaggy hair phase. “I mean, don't get me wrong, I love him. Ridiculously so. But it's never been like that with us.”

She looks over to Stefan with a small smile.

“Ever.”

The sincerity of her words is enough to quell in the inner demons, and Caroline makes a mental note never to bring it up again, but she does wonder things about him.

Little things like oh, owning a building despite having not other outside means of income. How did he get it? When? And with what money? Or the odd hours he keeps. She's lost count of how many times she's woken up in his bed, only to find he's not there but outside on the stoop just like the night when they first kissed.

That weird moment with Bonnie, who has refused to acknowledge anything ever happened, just as he does. Or that Lexi can sit there using terms like decades, centuries, and forever in regard to Stefan but they never feel like metaphors.

(A small voice whispers in the back of her mind that she knows exactly why, but it's quiet enough to keep ignoring, even if it repeats itself over and over again.)

/\

_So that's what it feels like._

She can't help the grin that pulls at her lips from his text. Somehow, she'd managed to sneak out of bed without him noticing, the apartment too. It's a good feeling, giving him a little taste of his own medicine. She's right in the middle of a response, when Bonnie suddenly appears in her eye line with a concerned look on her face.

“Oh no, what's wrong?” Caroline asks, instantly assuming the worst.

“I talked to my Grams,” Bonnie answers.

“Is she okay?”

For a moment the question seems to confuse her friend, a clear indicator that they are not on the same page with the beginnings of this conversation.

“What? Yeah, she's fine. We actually talked about Stefan.”

Now it's Caroline's turned to be confused, because what possible reason could the two of them have, to be talking about her boyfriend?

“Remember when Stefan said he knew a witch who looked like me? One from Salem?”

Caroline's brow furrows.

“Of course I remember. Kind of put a cap on the evening, didn't it? I tried to get you to talk about what happened, but you wouldn't. Neither would he, so I let it drop.”

Bonnie reaches out to grab hold of her elbow.

“It was my Grams. He knew my Grams, and she knew him.”

Caroline's head shakes, incredulous. That's weird, right? Of course it's weird.

“Okay,” she begins. “It's a little funny, but what's the saying? It's a small world, or whatever?”

The seriousness of Bonnie's expression never wavers.

“Yeah, but when they knew each other it was 1969.”

Denial is quick to bubble up.

“Then it couldn't have been him.”

“Caroline-”

“That's forty-five years ago Bonnie, Stefan is our age, or are you going to finish by telling me he's got a picture of himself hidden away somewhere that's magically getting older?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what?”

“I showed her a picture, from that night we went out. She's sure it's the same person.”

Caroline doesn't know what to say to that.

“I can't do this right now,” she says instead, turning and walking on the opposite direction.

“Caroline!” Bonnie calls, but doesn't give chase. “There are things in this world, things you can't believe are real, but they are!”

Caroline hugs the clipboard tighter to her chest. She knows all about the things that shouldn't be real, and wishes to whatever god it applies to, that she didn't.

/\

She and Stefan are snuggled up on her couch for a quiet night in, but no matter how cozy it feels, she can't get comfortable. Continuously shifting and shuffling against him, numerous deep sighs distracting from the movie they're suppose to be watching.

“Something on your mind?” he asks after the umpteenth sigh.

Her eyes try to focus on the TV, but she has no idea what's going on plot wise.

“What? No. Why do you ask?”

“Caroline.”

It's all he has to say, three syllables suddenly the epitome of concern and exasperation.

“Does the name Sheila Bennett mean anything to you?”

She can feel him tense just a second, but it's long enough to know that it does.

“Bonnie's grandmother,” she goes on. “It's why that witch you knew looked like her.”

“Small world,” Stefan says cautiously.

“That's what I thought,” Caroline agrees. “Timeline is a little off though.”

They still haven't looked at each other.

“Are we going to have this conversation now?” He asks.

“I guess.”

It's his turn for the deep sigh.

“I want to say I told you,” he puts out. “But you laughed it off.”

She nods against him.

“I did,” she agrees. “Because vampires aren't real.”

“Except that-”

“They are,” she finishes for him. “You are.”

The movie continues on, both staring blankly at the screen.

“You don't sound too surprised.”

She almost laughs.

“I'm from Mystic Falls,” she replies. “Of course I know vampires are real.”

She feels his head shift, lips pressing into her hair, not having to see his eyes to knew they're wide open at her statement.

“You never said-”

“My entire adolescence was spent jumping from one terrifying Scooby Doo adventure to the next. My dad? He was obsessed with things that go bump in the night, was part of this whole secret society dedicated to wiping them out. Of course that meant training his one and only child since the day she could walk, to defend herself from all these things that shouldn't exist by the light of day.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I can totally kill you with a crossbow at a hundred feet.” She says without a hint of sarcasm. “That chair over there? I could break it over your head and shove one of the pieces through your heart without breaking a sweat.”

She feels him start to pull away.

“Don't,” she requests softly. “You want to know, and I want to tell you, but let's stay like this okay? Just a little while longer?”

His hand starts to smooth out her hair.

“Okay,” he obliges just as soft.

“I was good too, star pupil, next in line to be a defender of the Founder's Council.”

Stefan realizes the Founder's Council is such a secret society.

“What changed?” He asks instead.

“Funny thing about monsters,” she starts. “They don't like to be hunted. They don't like to be driven into corners like scared rats. So they lash out. They get revenge.”

She squeezes him gently.

“My dad died.”

She feels his kiss atop her head.

“I'm sorry.”

“After that I... Everything I'd ever done was because of him, for him. When he was gone, I realized I never truly hated the things he did. Monsters are what they are, even if they killed him, because he killed them just the same.

After that I just wouldn't do it anymore. I couldn't. So I buried it. All of it. Somewhere deep down inside of me. Went off to the furthest college that I got accepted into, where there was no history of violence, where I could be that small town girl finding her place in the world. Little by little, I actually became her.”

“Did you know?” He asks. “When we first met? Did you know what I was?”

She smiles sadly.

“I think, deep down, yes. But you have to understand, I'd gotten so good at denial. Even with all the signs, it was staring me right in the face and I just looked the other way.”

They're quiet a moment.

“You're not the first,” she continues. “I met Bonnie in college. She's not joking when she says she's a witch. A Bennett witch at that. I even met a Bennett witch back home, Lucy. But I refused to put two and two together at the time.”

“You did what you had to,” he offers kindly. “To move on with your life. Trust me, I can relate.”

“I also dated a werewolf,” she admits. “He had no idea what was happening to him, and I could have helped, but I didn't.”

“Caroline...”

Three syllables again, this time all concern.

She fights back tears as every horrifying moment, every unforgivable thing she's ever done, comes crawling back like a spider into the forefront of her mind.

“Oh god,” she mutters, unable to hold the tears at bay. “I don't want this anymore. Any of it.”

He rubs her arm back and forth, every few seconds pressing kisses against her hair.

“What do you want?” He asks.

“I just,” she sniffs. “I just want to date you. That's all.”

Quiet again.

“Date me, not kill me?”

She pokes him.

“Stop, this is serious.”

“Oh, it's very serious.” He agrees. “The girl I love somehow has more baggage than I do, and tells me she can end my life if ever she's so inclined. What's not to be serious about?”

Finally, she looks up at him.

“What was that first part?” she asks.

His eyes are mischievous.

“It's serious?”

“Okay, the second part.”

“The girl I love?”

“Yeah, that part.”

He smiles.

“Say it again.”

 


End file.
